The Sleepover

"This should do perfectly! Thank you!" Sycamore nodded as my mother arranged for him a bed in the living room, between the sofas. I watched from the stairs with my arms crossed.

"Now make yourself at home! And if you feel hungry, you can go ahead and grab anything from the kitchen – no ceremonies here!!"

"Thank you so much, madam! Enjoy your night of sleep!"

My mother lingered a little longer after that, probably looking for a way to casually approach and receive/offer a good-night kiss without making herself look like even more of a fool... But Sycamore tactically kept afar, and I only then acknowledged another one of his clever social skills: he could put people at a very intimidating distance by flashing the same polite smile as usual, only this one was accompanied by a cold something that I didn't know from where it came...

Mom passed right by me on her way up, with a visibly hot head after perceiving he showed himself no more intimate to her than he had been during the dinner. I looked back at him.

"Now, won't you come and wish me a good night, too?" he warmed up immediately – more than that! I could almost see the steam surrounding his skin as he activated his predator-mode.

"I can do it from where I'm standing!" I replied angrily and, turning around, went to my room.

"And yet you haven't!" I heard him raise his voice enough to reach me upstairs. This one I answered with slamming my room's door.

----

Either because Professor Sycamore – That professor Sycamore whose smile bewitched and scared me the very first time I met him in a laboratory, where I expected to meet just an old man – was sleeping downstairs, in my living room; or because both said professor and my mother expected me to resume my journey tomorrow, sleeping was impaired that night. Instead, I lay in the dark with my arms crossed under my head, looking at the ceiling and sinking heavily into wondering. I had absolutely not forgiven Sycamore for what I had found out about him... but five days had passed, rage had more than subsided by then, replaced by a bitter taste in the back of my tongue and a stress in my throat every time I remembered him – his face, his smile, his touch and how I unwillingly adored each of them... and how the whole had wronged me! And it was reminiscing over the unfortunate day I met his eyes and permitted them capturing me so, that the gloomy hole inside my chest grew a little deeper – the seams presented new cracks, and they each ached like a brand-new cut, a small sample of the bigger one I had that day as I walked away and he smiled behind me, unaware. I was, after all, chosen because I was Grace's daughter... That wasn't a big secret, as he hinted something of the sort on the occasion of our meeting... But becoming his protégée for the very same reason? I felt shamelessly lied to...

But after all, I never told any of this to Sycamore, and he clearly detected all the extension of my hostility towards him... Could he be thinking it was all because of Calem? If so, what was he making out of that? He was visibly upset; annoyed, to say the least, throughout the entire dinner. I could swear a few more minutes of staring intently at me while my mother talked away in his ears would make him burst!

And what about now? I could bet he was down there, lying with his hands under his head like I was in my room; thinking, just like I was thinking, trapped outside of sleep with me, under the very same roof. I hated the fact that he was there... I hated that he wanted to take me back... but I mostly hated the thought that tomorrow morning he would be gone, with or without me.

I got up, and silently walked downstairs.

The living room was filled with a navy-blue shadow as the faint moonlight stole through the kitchen windows... If I stopped my own, I could hear the professor's soft breathing filling the air. I walked around the couch, looking to see him: He was there, of course, and while looking at him, doubting such fact didn't seem silly at all: it did feel like a dream!

...A stressful dream, I had to admit... But still a dream in its own right: his shirt was open all the way down, but his body was still quite covered while entwined between a mess of sheet and quilt, and the citric fragrance of his perfume filled up the room, transforming my house from what it used to be. It soothed me to watch his face while his lids were heavily closed – not seeing his eyes or his ill-natured smile made it easy on my heart do admit how much I adored him!

...But he was sleeping! – I sighed. Whatever had troubled him during dinner did so no more! It was comforting being able to watch him while he slept... but it was painfully smothering for the air to be so quiet, and for me to be the only one sleep had forsaken there!

I sighed and turned my back on him, returning to my room. Before I could take my first step, though, a stealthy large form crossed its arms around my waist – it was smart to anticipate a frightful scream, and what I now logically recognized as Sycamore's touch seized my mouth, preventing it. He pulled me down on the mattress and, one hand covering my mouth, supported his elbows around me, looking at me from above with a sleek, triumphant smile.

I observed his expression in the dark – not a wrinkle, not a sign that he had been sleeping and was awakened by my presence... He was pretending!! I tensed my eyebrows, angrily reproaching him, and moaned under his hand for him to let me go.

"Only if you promise to be so quiet..."

I rolled my eyes. He laughed lightly, his chest shaking above mine, and he let go.

His arm slid down, holding me by the waist, and he lay back on the mattress beside me, supporting his elbow on the pillow and holding his head up to face me. I felt angry at him again – the resentment returned when he smiled with such ease.

"How did you know I was here?!" I inquired.

"I felt your heavy eyes weighing down upon me, of course!" he laughed "You're not as subtle as you think, dear... Otherwise I never would have..." he seized my chin and there came his lips, ready to take a bite on mine. I looked away quickly, he smiled.

"I don't mean here, I mean here – in Vaniville!"

"Your friends told me, naturally!" he looked down examining the extent of my body, his hand on my waist threatening to slide down to my thighs.

"They couldn't!" I moved away again, as much as his arm around me allowed "they didn't know!!"

"Well, perhaps I have my own resources..." he sniffed my hair, burying his face against my ear. "None of which is relevant right now..."

He swayed me, pulling me closer and subtly starting to climb on top of me. I shrunk away in a second, and he conceded, falling back to my side: his arms, however, held me back from going too far as he smiled embarrassedly.

"It's my Pokédex... isn't it?!" I asked as I remembered his discussion with Lysandre.

He sighed heavily – apparently, he wasn't much in the mood of telling lies that night:

"It is, dear!"

"You've stalked me?!" I angrily accused.

"Given the situation, I wouldn't say you can put it like that at all: The Pokedéx belongs to me, as does the research itself... Wouldn't you say it's only fair that I should have full access to its location and progress?"

"It's unfair!" I protested in a fit of passion.

"Shhh..." he reminded me to keep it down, seizing my face in his palm and pulling my head closer, my cheek now against his lips in the dark.

"You didn't tell me any of it, so you have no right, even if it's your research!!" I pursued.

"Then assume there is something else I have taken the liberty to call mine... Am I too mistaken?"

I looked at him; his arms wrapped around me, pulled me closer against his chest in a warm hug.

"You can't expect to convince me I'm wrong, when you've gone and escaped me without a word, you ruthless, callous thing! And all because of what? Because you couldn't beat the entire Team Flare in one afternoon?"

I felt myself grow smaller inside his arms, and this time my body automatically crawled closer, deeper inside them! There was a genuine resentment in his tone... but how could I trust the reason behind it? I sighed and decided to tell him...

"I was there... in your house!" I started. He lifted his head to look at me, interested. I went on "I heard it when Lysandre came by... I heard you two talking about how... how..." it hurt to acknowledge it "...I was chosen as the main subject to your stupid research! How he told you to keep an eye on me... How that's what you've been doing from the beginning! I know all about it!"

And I closed my eyes shut, both because it hurt to remember the extension of my injury, and because here came the torrent of excuses and vain, charming apologies...

"And that's what scared you away?!" I heard him say. His tone wasn't distressed as I predicted it would be. Instead, it sounded all the more satisfied: "What have you heard of so special that puts you this cross?!"

My eyes widened with surprise.

"You... You said that..." my words died as I reviewed the scene in my head.

"Don't tell me you assumed by what you heard that I only dote on you, and amuse myself with you thus, because Lysandre told me you were special?!"

Precisely!

"I..." His tone implied one would have to be too dumb to think so, so I hesitated before admitting it, waiting for the explanation.

"Have you not heard the part where he commanded me not come near you again? And yet here I am..." His arms squeezed tighter against my stomach.

"Because you want me back on your research at all costs!" I accused, still holding on to my anger: it couldn't have been in vain!

"I do, of course! You are my brightest student, after all..."

"...Because of my mother!"

"Because of you!" He defended with passion, then smiled reassuringly "Tell me, dear: did I win all those badges for you, or coerced the leaders into giving them out? Better yet, did I battle your friend and rival for the mega ring and then gave it to you because you're your mother's daughter? No, though I admit I would have loved to do so if push came to shove. You won it yourself, you've earned it! And since we're here, why would you even dream of leaving it behind?" And he pulled an arm back, reaching for the pocket of his coat, then showed me my mega-ring between his fingers.

Remembering and being embarrassed by it, I tried to take it from his hand, but he pulled it away, escaping my grasp...

"It's mine!" I angrily pleaded, like a spoiled child.

"Is it still?!" he asked, returning it to my view and holding it there, challenging me to try to catch it again – when he, without a doubt, would once more pull it away. "Are you sure? Didn't you leave it there in that hotel room for Calem?"

His voice became slightly harsh...

"No!" I lied "I must have dropped it..."

"In the center of your pillow, for anyone to see when they came looking for you?! I don't think so, dear..."

Again he was right, but I couldn't possibly admit it. My face burned with shame and I couldn't say anything in return.

"Did you honestly think he could do better than you, when his Squirtle hasn't even changed from its initial form?" I felt a reproach in his composed tone.

I weighed his words – Calem didn't even use his Squirtle, preferring to always leave it in the box... He was probably afraid that, like my Charmander, his would love the professor too much; and if that annoyed me, who suffered from pretty much the same enthrallment, I imagine how unbearably annoying it would feel for him.

"Give it to me!" I stretched my arm to get it, in a naïve hope that this would end the conversation. Sycamore pinned me tighter to the bed so I couldn't stretch very far and, enclosing me into almost immobilization, held the ring next to my face.

"Wait up, dear – I want you to look at it! How did it feel when you earned it?"

Though unwilling, there wasn't much I could do other than that – I looked at the gleam swirling inside the stone.

"...And what when you willingly left it behind?" he added.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see it anymore.

"Huh, Anne?" His breath grew closer against my ear, demanding an answer.

"Leave me alone!" I protested.

"Did you seriously think I would let him get away with it... both of you get away with it? The boy showing up with a bracelet he didn't earn, after you gave it to him? Quite a sadness..." he sighed tragically. "...that you should think me such fool; and yourself, too!"

I don't know whether it was his intention or not, but I felt terribly tortured there! I grew smaller and smaller inside his hands.

"So how could a girl so smart do something so utterly reproachable?!" he whispered inside my ear, holding my shoulder and squeezing it with one hand, while the other still held the ring before me, like a distant prize he would never deliver "...so deserving of pity alone?"

I sighed. It felt like a sermon – no, it was one. I never knew how to answer to those...

"And was that all, dear? All your reason to be mad at me?" Sycamore inquired further "I hope it was... for I do not regret denying help to that buffoon, if his cockiness is what has driven you to such shy gloominess!"

He let go of the mega ring, dropping it on the mattress next to me. I faintly rest my hand on top of it...

"Your 'more suitable trainer' of a friend was utterly trampled on by Team Flare. And while you escaped, he was held captive along with the staff in the Power Plant, rescued only when the Police eventually perceived the assault on their own – I reckon he deserved the humiliating taste of defeat, perhaps now he can become a half-decent trainer: I have gladly partaken in it, dare not try to appeal to my conscience!"

He partially let go of his firm grip, and partially relinquished the intense, penetrating and reproachful watch he held over me.

I couldn't possibly agree with him on his depiction of Calem's personality, nor did I know of any reasons he had for thinking so... but I was cowardly glad he directed all that rare anger towards Calem, and gladly dropped the subject before he could go about torturing me some more:

"So..." I started, breaking the cold silence after an uncomfortable minute "So you and Lysandre..."

He detected how feeble my voice and will were, and how the sadness that still lurked in my spirit was only caused by the embarrassment of misinterpretation... and he smiled. His voice was back into a mild whisper again:

"We have predicted you would do better than the others, considering the extensive history of your mother, yes... and we were not wrong after all, were we?!"

I felt a pleasant mixture of flattery and relief.

"Now, darling... You must know in how much trouble I am for being here, chasing after you ..."

I looked into his blue eyes. It made sense... I hadn't thought about that before: that if he should really listen to Lysandre and care only for the research, he would never prey on me like he continuously did.

His smile presented itself in a meaner way again. He supported both his hands at my sides and moved on top of me:

"And you know in how much trouble you are for knowing what you know?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to push his arms away to escape and return to my room at once, now that the matter was settled:

"Sure! I suppose you have to kill me or something?"

"Close enough..." He seized both my wrists in one hand as I tried to push him away, and held them against his pillow on top of my head. I struggled once, and then his face was against mine, looking deeply into my eyes. I stopped to listen "But... perhaps something more amusing will do?"

"Sy---Sycamore!" I gasped as he moved his body on top of mine, being careful not to unbind my arms.

"For you to escape precisely when I had made up my mind... I can hardly believe how slippery you are!" He reminisced.

His free hand forced open my knees, his hips immediately occupying the space between them before they could spring back into place.

"No!" I protested, and my voice was effectively reduced to a whisper when his lips began brushing against my neck. I could now only moan it, half-decided: "No, my mother will..."

He stopped to look at me and give a satisfied laugh. "You force me to take action in such conditions, kitty! It's all I can do if I want to have you..." His hand secured my wrist tighter then... His face returned to mine, and his body rocked on top of mine as his now too ferocious kiss traced its way to my jaw, chasing the lips I desperately tried to move away.

"Don't put up such a hard struggle now..." he recommended "It will only tire you faster!"

His hips moved in on me, each time breaking apart more of the resistance offered by my tensed legs trying to squeeze him in place, if not away. My eyes grew wider with each movement, and his mean smile stretched farther as he forced my expression to remain under his careful, pleased examination.

"Professor..." I moaned.

"Hush now!" his voice trembled as he whispered me into quietness "we wouldn't want her to wake up this very instant, would we?!"

I would!! By God, I would! I closed my eyes tightly – it was all I could do to conceal the embarrassment from his scrutinizing eyes; and he sunk back onto my neck – I felt his teeth brushing lightly against the skin there, then down my collar bone, looking for a soft enough place to sink into... His free hand grasped my thigh inside firm fingers, and as I jerked from the sudden touch, his hips pushed down on me. I could feel the hardness inside his pants – it was terrifying!

A sudden jolt of adrenaline forced me to struggle harder; in response, Sycamore's weight grew heavier on top of me, and his chest shook with a laugh as he blocked me down with his torso. His hand slid upwards through my thigh, underneath my nightgown. His laugh sounded like "Not today, you won't!". My adrenaline-soaked heart jumping sounded just as hopeless... I was only seconds away from that cold thrill on my spine that would turn off the control brain had over body ...

Hopefully, one can't expect it would be so easy to achieve such lengths in a living room of an occupied house: The gentle, faraway sound of a door clicking open was fortunately heard through a brief moment of silence in Sycamore's arching breath and my anguished moans – if we both had been a little more engaged in the struggle, none would have heard the approach, and things could have turned out absolutely disastrous! And though he stood alert after the uncertain click, it was only when my mother's first step resounded on the wooden stairs that Sycamore let go of me, and I jumped up in the dark while he covered himself and pretended to fall back to sleep.

When I tried to walk, I only then realized that my underwear had been rolled down to the middle of my legs – a brand new dose of fear flooded my brain when I realized just how close I might have been to receiving him, and I had time to shake in place a little before quickly pulling them up again as my mother appeared.

For all that mattered, I had only been up for a glass of water, like she had, and thus I escaped unscathed to my room.